The Happy Start
by WeirdMe
Summary: Oh Zach, why, you were just a little too late. One shot.


In a tiny little funeral home, there's a family looking down at a shiny black coffin with delicate carvings only in the corners, because that delicate carving would take hours to do the whole thing, so you take that small square, and hope it fills you up with that tiny bit of beauty it has.

Shiny, black wood covers the face of the dead. And family members grieve; friends who aren't really friends come, because it was open to all. People cry, and you blame yourself because it was a death that should not have happened. Deep in that shiny black coffin, there will be girl, about 17 or so, with large, pretty doe eyes the color of sand, and pretty hair that was blonde, but was looked to be brown. Whose stomach was filled with blue and white pills because she thought it was the easiest way to die.

Deep in the cupboard of her mother's house is a pill bottle. Stuck in the back, and empty of course. A few weeks ago it had been on a bedside table, and the cap twisted off.

Next to the pill bottle, the few weeks ago, was two picture frames. In one lie the parents, whom one was died. The other, well, could be dead too. Watch the way the mother's eyes move, sliding and gliding like a ghost. And now, they lower the girl with sandy eyes right next to her father because of eyes that could not care.

Then, in a rectangle, studded with gems, will be three girls. They smile in frozen laughs on a bedside table of a once alive girl. Arms around with smiles, kisses, and hugs. On the right you will see a very beautiful girl. With long ink hair, and large blue eyes. The blue of the sky of sunset. She will be tall and thin, who, after a few weeks after the dead girl's sweet 16, a best friend she was suppose to be, her ink black hair will be sprawled against a pillow and be caught screwing her supposedly loving best friend's boyfriend.

On the left, you will see a small girl. Complete opposite of the girl on the right. Who would be described as dark; while this girl held light, light was her hair, and skin, and eyes. Yet, she holds a bag which can only hold books and homework. Homework and books. And forgotten friends lost among pages.

In the middle is another beautiful girl. Dark skin caught between coco and honey. Very, very pretty. Only weeks after that picture will she move. To another town, with beautiful people just like herself. Who will be amazing. And make her forget about the people in the past. People she had once loved.

In the trash can next to the table you will see garbage overflowing that can, the owner being too lazy to empty it for awhile. And deep at the bottom, under all those tissues of unseen tears, will be a big, circle frame, the glass broken and smashed, dents that weren't there until it collided with a wall. Inside will be a boy with brown curly hair, and pretty eyes, with a smile that made you melt. Blue, blue was his eyes. Just like the best friend of his once girlfriend. The best friend he had been seen naked in bed with only weeks after his girlfriend's 16th birthday.

Around his neck in the smiling picture of himself will be a thick cord necklace with a shell at end which his best friend had bought him since he had no money that day at the beach. The same best friend who, if you checked the perfect bed not slept in for a few weeks, tucked under the mattress, you find his picture. Smiling with dimples, and green eyes.

And in that mattress other than the green eyed boy you will find a tie belonging to who the dead girl now rests by. Who had died in a car accident when she was 15. Who had made the mother into a ghost. A ghost the man is now, now for 2 years is had been. The man didn't want to leave her, of course, it just happened that the road was slick. And dark was the sky. He was a good man, loved her, cared for her, gave her food, even helped with picking and buying her clothes.

In that very closet among the clothes she brought, and her father brought, or her friends brought. There's something clinging to each piece of fabric. A scent that could not wash away. A scent, that her mother, if she saw, would have noticed, but of course, didn't. The sweet but sour smell of pot.

Right at the end of racks of smoke filled clothes will be a jacket. A guy's black leather jacket worn down to a soft leather. With that jacket held memories of cold nights and warm kisses. Of bright green eyes and skies so black. Of the last week of the girl's life. Of a handsome boy with green eyes, best friend of the blue eyed boyfriend, and tucked under a mattress. A boy a little too late.

With that same boy, deep in the woods, behind McCreek's family house, is a little clearing. Usually the potheads get high there. But very pretty none the less. On a tree, that if you enter straight back from McCreek's house, right in the middle of what you would consider your right side, will be initials craved into the wood to mark a place of what might be a forgotten memory. C+Z= . . .

In that same clearing, a few weeks after tears of a break up, and a lost friend, before the green eyed boy of course, will be a girl with sandy eyes rolling a joint, her very first, but never her last.

That same clearing, in which, if you could read minds, the sandy eyed girl spent the months before her death, wondering why her head hurt so much. Why she felt so sad. Why her mother was there, but so defiantly not. And why everything was spinning out of control until she would do anything to make it stop. Just stop spinning. But it never did.

To make it stop spinning, she did many, many things. She slid a razor against the skin, the pain made you forget. She slept too much because you forget reality when you do. She drank, drank so much. In the clearing one Sunday afternoon, she had been lying on the grass. Cigarette hanging out of mouth and bottle of Jack Daniels in a hand. Then the green eyed boy came out, who had come because it was a very pretty place, and that started a sandy eyed girl's last week.

_The last week_ she had said in the note on her bedside table, _made me think twice about a using a razor or grabbing that cigarette. Oh Zach, why, you were just a little too late._

_C+Z= . . . What made me live a week longer._

**Author's Note: Wow, when I first started writing this, I thought I would do a person actually telling you what happened. Then, I couldn't get the first paragraph, so I started the next one instead and it turned into the same kind of style of The Unseen Edges of a Polaroid. It was also suppose to be telling the story **_**backwards**_**. I guess that kind of happened? I still like it so . . . Be a nice person and review? Or favorite? **

**Random piece of information, or question, any of you guys read Mortal Instruments Fanfictions? I know, this is the **_**Gallagher Girls**_** Fanfiction, but I don't plan on writing a Mortal Instruments one soon so . . . some help? I can't find a story I thought I had added to my favorites: complete; involves Jace and Clary as main characters; first chapter starts off as a epilogue/prologue thing; in the first chapter Clary goes to the beach, because it's kind of where everything "started", she and Jace went there a lot, she went there because Jace called her; Clary's mom had died, which left Clary to lock up her heart; towards the end of the story Jace leaves to "find himself", then comes back saying how he couldn't forget her. Anyone? Please? PM or comment? In fact, if you help me I'll give you a reward. A snippet either from a one shot or story I'm working one, or a shout out, maybe a story recommendation? You can choose. **


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